Rumbelle Tumblr Prompts
by Rumbella
Summary: This is where I'll be posting all my prompts from tumblr. They'll include a variety of different Rumbelle stories and situations, including AU Rumbelle, Anyelle and more! Expect a bit of smut here and there :)
1. In Which Belle Breaks Her Wrist

**These are just quick little oneshots that I'm doing for my followers on tumblr. I'm doing a big promptathon. If any of you would like to contribute, I'm .com :) **

**I own nothing!**

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_**"Challenge accepted! um, Rumbelle in the Dark Castle,, Belle trips over and breaks an arm, but as it is early days she decides to hide it from the Dark One, Cue fluff and comfort and healing please please"**_

It was all her fault. Her complete, blasted fault.

The curtains had always bothered her, even when she wasn't facing them. They were always…_there_. They smothered away the light, kept the beautiful mountains surrounding the Dark Castle hidden from view. Belle had turned from her dusting to pointedly glare at them, as if she hoped her stern gaze would cause for them to shrivel away.

Her new master, Rumplestiltskin, certainly needed some sunlight, she had decided. She managed to drag the large ladder she had unearthed in Rumplestiltskin's vast storage room to the first set of windows, giving a confident huff as she clambered up to the top.

She had stood on the rungs below her, tugging persistently at the curtains. _What, did he nail these to the walls? _She frowned, giving a hard yank. Her hands slipped from the smooth fabric, throwing her from the ladder. Her heart plummeted into her throat, beating frantically as she fell, hitting the hard wooden floor and taking the brunt of the fall with her arm.

And now here she was, sitting up on the ground with her arm searing with pain. Belle winced, carefully feeling along her arm to find the injured area, praying silently that she'd only bumped it. A particularly blinding bout of pain hit her as she gripped her wrist. She closed her eyes, a pathetic little sob passing her lips as she squeezed harder, trying to feel more. The pain had tears rolling down her face, but her fingers felt the break, clear as day. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! How will I hide this from him? _

She couldn't ask him for help, she refused. He'd laugh in her face for being so foolish, perhaps even punish her by refusing to heal the break.

After a few moments of collecting herself, she stood, favoring her wrist as she single handedly tilted the ladder to the ground and folded it. She dragged it back to its appropriate spot in the storage room and decided to hide away in the kitchen, sitting by the warm fire of the hearth as she tried to think of a solution to the broken wrist. If she wrapped it, he'd notice, but if she barreled through the pain, favoring the wrist? Perhaps she'd be able to do it after all!

Her hopes faded as tea time neared, as signaled by the wind up clock resting above the hearth. She took a long breath, heading over to prepare her master's tea. _Do the brave thing and bravery will follow, do the brave thing and bravery will follow. _

She bustled out into Rumplestiltskin's dining room, which seemed to be more of a display room to her, the tea tray in hand. Rumplestiltskin sat at the head of the long table, fingers steepled and eyes carefully watching her as she neared him. _Why does he always seem so sad? Maybe others would take it for hostility…but in his eyes… _

Belle winced as a flare of immense pain shot throughout her wrist and arm, causing the tray to jerk off balance. She managed to recover just in time to prevent another chipped cup, but the boiling tea from his cup splashed onto her arm, making her give a soft cry of surprise.

She quickly glanced up as the tea tray was removed from her hands, caught off guard by Rumplestiltskin, who had quickly moved to her aid as soon as he noticed her trembling hand. He placed the tea tray on the table before turning to her, unfocused eyes scanning from her face to the wrist she clutched in her hand.

"And what is…this?" he questioned stiffly, motioning to her wrist.

"I, ah…I fell…" she lamely admitted, eyes cast downwards like a child being scolded for stealing the last pastry.

"And you didn't tell me? What do you think I am? A monster?" he acted offended before noting the blank expression on her face. "Oh, wait, I am, aren't I?" he gave a cackle, his hand shooting out to grab her injured arm and jerk her wrist towards him.

His grip was extremely gentle for such a rough display, which had Belle furrowing her brow in confusion. _He's no monster…he's just…a man A lonely, lonely, man. _His touch was even softer, trailing gently along her wrist. She visibly winced as he prodded the location of her pain and she swore he almost looked guilty.

She watched as his hand was surrounded by a sort of purple aura giving a groan of relief as the pain faded away completely. "There we are," he breathed, peering up into her blue eyes as if to assure that she was well.

Belle gave a laugh of disbelief, shaking her head with a grin. "I suppose next time I should find you, yes?" she asked as he released her arm.

"Next time, dearie, you won't be attempting such feats when I am not in the room,"

She blanched. _He saw me? But…how? He wasn't eve-_

Of course he had been there. It was his castle. He probably knew each and every occurrence within its walls. Her attempt to hide her injury had probably been his evening entertainment, she bitterly reflected. _Serves me right. _

She lifted the tray, a small smile on her lips. "I'll tidy this up and return," she informed him as she headed towards the door. She still could feel the touch of his fingers on her wrist, the grip on her arm. She couldn't just leave without even thanking him, could she? She paused, a blush playing at her cheeks as she turned towards him. "Rumplestiltskin? Thank you…and…you aren't a monster, you're just…lonely," she half expected him to grab her and shake her, roaring that he was not a man at all. She had overstepped her boundaries, as she often had with her new master.

Rumplestiltskin only stood, quite speechless as his little maid bustled off to fix his tea. He lifted his fingers, sill tingling from the touch of her soft skin, and stared at them. _Lonely…_

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**Thanks for reading, dearie! Review if you wish to do so :) **


	2. In Which Professor Gold Helps Belle

**I own nothing but my fangirling heart :) **

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_**"Belle and Prof. Gold staying late after class, going over her latest paper, which he finds wonderful and has pulled her aside to talk to her about it. They share jokes, and laughter, and at the end, a wonderful kiss on the lips. Congrats on the follower milestone! You're awesome and I love you! :D" **_

He hated the esteemed _Cora_ _Mills Essay. _Absolutely hated it with every fiber of his being. The bloody woman was still alive and yet she decided they needed to have a yearly essay dedicated to her for existing. The prompt was always ridiculous and the papers that were turned in for him to judge always left him with the urge to slam his pen into his temple. Each year, one person won a cash prize, each year, Cora's little daughter, Regina, would win that prize, even when he didn't recommend the prude.

And this year, a certain Belle French had asked him to check over her paper with the wide eyed hope of winning. She was the unnoticed goddess of the halls, her brilliantly blue eyes always meek as she observed passing students. Her rare smiles sent his heart racing off like a whippet chasing after a fleeing rabbit. She had few friends she spoke to, none she really trusted. He wanted her to trust him, he wanted her to throw herself into his arms without a single word.

And here he was, hating this damned paper and wanting to hold his own student in his arms. "What was the prompt this year, Miss French?" he dryly asked, lifting his gaze from observing the way she wrote her name to see that the girl was right by his side, her arms folded on his desk. She was so close that he could smell the vanilla shampoo she used.

"Guess," she replied, a coy smile playing at her lips.

He was her favorite teacher. The title was close holiness, in his opinion. He gave a long sigh, pretending that it was a strenuous task to decide. "Let's see here…it involves women, yes?" he questioned.

She nodded, a grin forming on her lips.

"Yes, yes, easy. It is asking to you write about a woman with power?" Cora was obsessed with proving that feminine characters could hold power. Gold would've liked to see how powerful she would be after a good whack with his cane. Belle had more power than she. A single smile would have him on the ground, begging for her.

Belle nodded, resting her chin on her hand as she peered over at him. "Yes, I used Lady Macbeth," she informed. "She used her femininity and deftness at lying to control Macbeth and make herself appear to be the victim, whereas she actually was the one holding all the chess pieces."

"Good," he praised. She shivered beside him, _Shivered. _Was she pleased that he was pleased? "Let's look at this then, shall we?" he read her rough draft there, fixing a few minor grammar mistakes here and there, but overall being completely pleased with the end result. "That was one of the best essays I've read, Miss French. In my entire career I've never seen such…_personality. _It was as if you'd just sat down for a cuppa with Lady Macbeth and relayed her words to you on paper."

Belle flushed, her eyes wide. "Really, Mr. Gold?" she squeaked, her smile blustering.

He could've kissed her right there. "Yes," he answered, watching her blissful joy with a deep happiness filling his chest. He had to know. He had to. He hated himself for the quip, but he had to know. "I suppose you could say Lady Macbeth and my ex wife had much in common," he smirked.

She faltered at the statement. _Faltered. _He wanted to sob. He wanted to throw his desk. He wanted to kiss away her sudden hesitation and show him how much he ached for her. He deserved the pain he felt for being so foolish. Of course she cared for him. She always was glued to him during class, always asked questions, always smiled at him in the hall.

Gold ran his fingers through his hair, unsure how he could ever expect forgiveness. "Thank you, Mr. Gold," she stood, gently tugging her rough draft from the table. He didn't even bother looking at her as she walked around his desk. The disappointment in her eyes would kill him.

"Mr. Gold?" he jerked his head up, surprised to see her smiling as if he'd never said a word.

"Yes, Miss French?"

"Thank you," she repeated.

"No, Belle, thank _you_." the blush on her cheeks was evident. _Thank you for filling my night with dreams that compare to miracles. Thank you for taking your time as you walk by me each day. Thank you for reserving your lip biting for when I'm in front of your desk. _

A week later, the winner had been decided. Regina Mills. He remained in his office when he wasn't teaching. He couldn't bear to see his Belle, forlorn and defeated as she walked the halls. Even in class, he avoided looking at her. When he did, he saw the emptiness in her eyes, the disappointment.

And yet the girl came to him. She came to him at the end of the day as he graded his quiz from that day. She came to his side, resting her buttocks against his desk as she gazed off at his display case behind his desk. "I lost," she spoke softly, her voice miserable.

"Belle," he looked up to her, his eyes showing deep concern. "She wins each year, the essay is dedicated to her mother. You deserved that reward."

Belle could've used the cash for something useful, for some new books, clothes. Regina Mills was already spoiled beyond belief.

Belle took a deep breath, nodding. "You're right, I guess…I didn't stand much of a chance," she admitted.

He stood, ignoring his cane as it fell to the side. He moved to grasp her arms in his hands, facing her towards him. "If I could burn Ms. Mill's essay and steal that prize for you, I would," he informed her, her blue eyes smouldering a hole into his heart.

"But…"

"'But' nothing, Belle. You may have lost according to them, but in there…" his finger gently prodded her chest. "You won."

She dampened her lips with her tongue and he found his eyes glued to them, his heart rate soaring at the sight.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold," she leaned up, pressing those damp little lips to his.

He gripped her shoulders even tighter at the contact, fervently returning her chaste little kiss. He pulled back, eyes boring into hers. "Come home with me after school," he rasped. "We can celebrate with a drink."

"But Mr. Gold…"

"I won't take no as an answer, Miss French."

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**Review if you wish to do so, thanks for reading, dearie!**


	3. In Which Lacey And Gold Love To Hate

**I own nothing but my fangirling heart. Enjoy, dearie. :)**

**Warning: This has a tad bit of smut.**

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**_"Pre Emma AU Lacey was always a part of storybrooke and they hated each other but could never seem to stay away"  
_ **

"_He claims to be a monster, but I don't see anything worth being scared of." _

"_She's just a wench with an alcohol problem." _

Their hate had always been mutual, ever since the first time they met. He'd needed to enter the grimy Rabbit Hole to demand his rent from the bumbling barkeep, only to have his sights drawn to the scantily clad wench playing pool.

She was surrounded by men, men that brought her drinks, men that shot her wolfish grins and wanted nothing more than a single wink from Lacey. _Lacey _The word was poison on his tongue. He hated every single fiber of her. How _dare_ she be so carefree in this town. How _dare _she be so independent.

He hated her, and yet they always seemed to be drawn towards each other. Whether it be bumping into each other on the street or instances like their first meeting.

She was the one to approach him the first time. "Mr. Gold," she drawled, a grin on her face. His gaze shifted to her twinkling blue eyes, the playfulness in them making him want to throw her out of his way. "What's a guy like you doing in my territory?" she purred, raising an eyebrow.

"_Your _territory?" he gave a laugh. "Oh no, I own _everything _in this town Miss French," he spat between gritted teeth. What was it about her that made him so furious?

She rolled her eyes, leaning in closer with a little flicker in her eyes. "Does that mean you own me too?" she asked in a "come-hither" tone , smirking.

He gave a disguted snarl at that, turning and briskly exiting the musky bar.

Even so, as he furiously relieved himself in the shower that night as any lonely man would, he couldn't even find that state of euphoria. Each time he neared, he saw her, laughing at him.

He slammed his fist against the shower wall, giving a snarl. _Lacey. _A curse on his tongue.

The days went on and she always found him. Sometimes she'd decide to enter his shop, pretending to want to purchase something even though he knew she had little money to spend. Her words resumed cutting into his libido, her expressions resumed making him hate her all the more.

She hated him too. He'd overheard her speaking of him in the booth behind him at Granny's one evening. He assumed this evening would simply make their mutual hate evident to the world, and yet...

"He claims to be a monster, but I don't see anything worth being scared of." she scoffed.

Miss Lucas gave a giggle at that. Of course the town wenches would befriend each other. "I bet you'd like to get into his pants, huh? He's pretty sexy, y'know."

It took Gold every fiber of his being not to vomit at the thought.

"Huh, maybe he is, but that personality is just revolting," he could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

He left after that, not even meeting Lacey's surprised gaze, not even seeing Madame Mayor, who stood in his way at the door. "Mr. Gold, I didn't realize you were here, I would've bought you a drink," she said with utmost falseness. "Or perhaps I would have been better to buy our dear Lacey one instead?"

She knew. She knew and she intended to use it to taunt him. Gold hated everyone in this town. Perhaps not Henry, the lad was too good, but everyone else deserved nothing from him.

"And why, pray tell, should I care? She's just a wench with an alcohol problem," he spat. "Good day, Mayor Mills."

He left, not noticing the wavering in Lacey's confidence, the irritation in her eyes.

He retreated to his pawnshop, slamming the door behind him and heading to his counter.

He jumped as another slam followed. "You think you can dictate who I am without even knowing me? "

He spun, surprised to see the stout little barfly right before him. He could smell the stale smoke on her from the bar, coated with a vanilla perfume.

"Yes, I can," he shot back, his tone filled with venom. "It's quite obvious that I hate you, Lacey," he spat.

She gave a sharp laugh, shaking her head. "And it's quite obvious..." she started, mocking his brogue, "that I hate you."

He didn't understand why they had moved in after declaring their hate. He didn't understand why his arms had tugged her closer to him. He didn't understand why their mouths met with the utmost ferocity and passion.

But they did. She mewled under his mouth, her hands grabbing at the lapels of his suit and dragging him into the back of his shop.

"I can't do anything because of you," he hissed. "I can't sleep, I can't even concentrate during the day."

She said nothing, only smirking as she released him from her grip, strolling ahead of him. In mere seconds her tiny dress was pooled at her feet, baring her black thong and bra to him.

_Lacy _thong and bra, of course. He came up upon her in seconds, turning her around and pressing his mouth back to hers, groaning as her sly little tongue found its way into his mouth.

"Home," he grunted as he pulled away.

"Feels like you need me now, Mr. Gold," she murmured darkly, pressing herself against his erection.

"Home," he repeated. Being here was risky. If Regina...

"Fine, fine, we'll have our little passion filled fuck in your bed, just lemme help you out first, bastard," the words made him groan, his eyes slamming shut as she gripped him through his pants.

"Always knew you were hiding something good down there..." she muttered, deftly undoing his belt and yanking his pants and briefs down in one tug, giving a pleased little purr at the sight of him, standing at attention.

His eyes slammed shut as her mouth found his member, going beyond anything he could ever hope to achieve alone.

The thing she did with her tongue, the surprising amount of him that she could suckle onto, it had him spent within seconds.

He released himself into that coy little mouth, gripping onto his desk. "Lacey,"

Her name was a prayer on his tongue.

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"Emma, what a lovely name."

In came back to him in a flash, his live. Rumplestiltskin. Baelfire. _Belle. _

She was alive. She was in his bed that very moment, waiting for him to return. Perhaps as Lacey, but she was his. He left the dingy inn, tears in his eyes.

"Belle..." he breathed, looking upwards.

Heaven on his tongue.

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**So...Never really attempted any kinds of smut before. I hope I did well!**

**Thanks for reading, dearie! Review if you wish to do so!**


	4. In Which Belle serves Cora and Rumple

**I own nothing but my fangirling heart. Please do enjoy, dearie :) If you'd like to prompt me, you'll find my tumblr link on my profile!**

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**_"AU Cora stayed with Rumple but he still made the deal for belle" _ **

"You will fetch me straw, bring me tea each evening and tend to each and every need of your mistress, Cora."

Her blue eyes quickly shifted to her new master, startled at the mention of a mistress. Someone had fallen in love with him? This..._beast? _

She said nothing of it, but she couldn't help but wonder. Who was this woman and did she truly love him?

Her new mistress, Cora was beautiful. She sat draped across a well cushioned bed of sorts facing one of the large windows that stood in the dining room, watching the imp enter with cat-like eyes.

Belle immediately felt a dislike for her.

"What is _that?_" she spat, eying Belle with disdain.

"Our new slave," Rumplestiltskin replied easily, ignoring her refusal to point out Belle with a more humane word.

"Is she mute?" she woman snapped, her eyes flicking back to Belle as she lazily stood, sashaying over to grip Belle's chin in her hand, her long nails digging into the girl's cheeks.

"I'm Belle, daughter of Lord Maurice," she spoke loudly, fearlessly. This woman wouldn't instill any fear upon her. Belle would make a terrible servant if she meekly bustled about, terrified of crossing paths with her mistress.

"Brave little thing, pretty too..." she murmured, tilting Belle's face this way and that. "I'm Cora, the leash holder of that beast," she tilted her head towards Rumplestiltskin, his back immediately stiffening from her choice of wording. A kind smile spread across Cora's lips, her eyes suddenly welcoming. "You intend to serve us?" she softly asked the girl.

Belle couldn't help but smile, surprised by the woman's change of heart. "Yes, if it means my family and village will remain unharmed..."

She was shoved to the ground before she could resume speaking. Belle stared up at the woman, lips parted and blue eyes wide.

Cora glowered with rage, looking to Rumplestiltskin with a scowl. "I don't want some pretty little thing flirting about with you," she hissed, moving towards him.

"A deal is a deal, dearie," he replied coldly. "There's no going back, you of all should know that."

Cora slapped him, claws bared.

Belle tearfully looked up to see the deep scratches on his face, oozing with blood. He refused to heal them and the girl didn't understand why.

Nor did she understand why Cora kissed him after that.

_They don't love each other, _she reflected with a sudden burst of inexplicable joy. If they had, his curse would have faded.

He was the Dark One, after all. The girl had read her fair share of stories of his curse.

He threw her into her dungeon after she managed to recover and stand, leaving her to sob alone as she did each night after she attempted to clean the castle.

Finally, one night he entered, eyes blazing with irritation. The scratch on his face was replaced with another set of scratches, freshly bleeding.

"Your crying is disturbing my mistress," he spat.

"If it bothers her so much why doesn't she come down to tell me herself?" Belle retorted, mouth furled into a frown.

"If she came down, dearie, she would kill you," he sneered, a pillow appearing in a plume of purple smoke. He threw it to her and Belle swore she saw a split second of guilt in his eyes.

"T-Thank you," she stammered, clutching the pillow to her chest. "Maybe I'll actually get some rest now," she spitefully added, hiccuping softly.

"Oh no, dearie. It's simply to muffle your cries," he hissed, turning to leave.

"She hurts you," Belle blurted out, her hand outstretched towards him.

He stopped completely, slowly turning to peer at the girl. "That she does," he agreed quietly.

"Why do you let her? You're the most powerful being in these lands," the girl insisted. "You won't even heal the wounds!"

"I care for her," was all he said in an emotionless tone before exiting.

Belle stood, jaw grit. _Liar.  
_

Then the crash came.

Her mistress had left while Rumplestiltskin tortured his new prisoner, claiming his cries gave her a headache.

Belle frowned as Rumplestiltskin told her this, irked by the woman's cowardice.

She was brave, unlike Cora. She reflected upon this as she freed the prisoner, as she faced Rumplestiltskin's wrath.

"Do you even _KNOW _what she will think of me?" he spat down at her as she clutched her book to her chest.

"She's never thought much of you to begin with," Belle coolly replied. "You're just a slave to her. If she cared, she wouldn't hurt you! She'd treat you like a man!"

He simply yanked her from the room by the arm after that, dragging her to his carriage.

Nobody had ever truly cared for him, and if they ever had, they must've been gone for a long while now. She reflected upon this on the carriage ride to find the thief called Robin Hood.

Rumplestiltskin clearly would've killed her if her words of truth had bothered him. He would've killed her if freeing Robin Hood had bothered him, and yet he insisted that good help was hard to find.

He even went on to further prove himself wrong by refusing to allow this Sheriff of Nottingham to have a go with her.

At this, Belle was sure there was something beyond a beast in there. She saw a man, crouched and beaten by Cora.

And yet he didn't see this.

There was a flicker of hope for the girl when he quite obviously missed the thief on purpose, claiming to have "missed" when the bow was enchanted so that it was impossible to do so.

Her words had sunk in. She'd truly broken through his barrier.

And so she hugged him. It seemed to be the right thing to do.

He stiffened completely, not used to such compassion. Belle wanted to cry for the poor man. Did Cora not show him the correct kind of love? Or did she simply show him lust?

Belle had little time to wonder as she was ripped from his arms and thrown against the ground with such force that her breath left her.

"What do you think you're doing, you pathetic, sniveling whore?" Cora spat at Belle, eyes blazing. She must've followed them, otherwise she wouldn't have known of their leaving the Dark Castle at all. Had she been suspicious?

"Showing him the sort of kindness you fail to give," Belle boldly replied, her mouth furling into a disgusted snarl.

"I gave her a chance for you," she turned on Rumplestiltskin, her nails bared. "Now, you'll have to kill her yourself. That little whore things she can make you feel human, make you think you're even close to being a man?" she scoffed.

Her hand was raised, she was going to hurt him. Again. "You aren't a man, you're a beast and you're my-"

Belle stood in an instant, catching the woman's wrist in her grip. "You won't hurt him anymore!" Belle heatedly declared, only to be tossed back against a nearby tree, her head whipping out and cracking against the wood. She felt warm blood pour from the back of her head, coating her back as she gave a groan.

"Fine, Rumple, fine. I'll do it myself," Cora spat, walking towards the whimpering girl.

Belle desperately looked to Rumplestiltskin, who had been strangely quiet the entire time. He didn't wear a defeated expression, but a bewildered one, his gaze on Belle.

What had he realized?

Cora thrust a hand towards Belle's exposed chest, but it never reached her.

Rumplestiltskin had appeared behind the woman in a flash, his hand shooting through her back and out of her chest, gripping the croon's heart.

He yanked it out, a gleeful grin on his face. "I taught you better," he spat. "To keep not only _your _heart," he trilled, giving the blackened mass a squeeze that made the woman fall to her knees. "But _my _heart?"

He shot his other hand into the woman's back, a black, glowing mass in his hand.

When Belle squinted, she swore she saw a trace of red.

He pressed his own heart back into his chest, giving a relieved breath as he let his eyes drift shut, opening them with a new sort of ferocity.

He squeezed Cora's heart, reducing it to ashes.

Belle fell to the ground in an instant, giving a soft grunt as she struggled to raise her head.

She felt herself being rolled over, followed by a numb sensation replacing the pain that was present at the base of her skull.

She was lifted against a wiry chest, her eyes fluttering as she focused her sights. Rumplestiltskin looked down upon her as he held her against him, eyes smouldering with an emotion that Belle wasn't aware he could feel.

"Thank you," he softly murmured, a hand hesitantly tracing her cheek.

Belle blinked, her brow furrowing with confusion. "She's dead? She...had two hearts?"

"I loved her once, foolishly," he quietly admitted. "She played me, made me believe her feelings were true. She took my heart, placed it with her own. That way, she always had me under her control."

"And now that she's dead...now that you have your heart..." Belle trailed off.

"I am free to do as I wish," he looked upwards at the skies as the sun shone down upon them.

The sight was something Belle would always remember, the first sensations of warmth, the first realization of freedom.

Her hand fell upon his cheek, her eyes twinkling. "You're free."

"I am," he agreed, a faint smile on his lips. "Let's get you home and in a proper bed, shall we?" he looked to her for assurance.

Belle nodded eagerly, resting her head against his lean shoulder. "We shall."

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**Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading, dearie! Review if you so desire to do so!**


	5. In Which Lacey Asks To Be Called 'Racy'

**WARNING: Extreme language and sex. It's Danny Devine, after all. **

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_**Prompt - Develle - Call me "Racy Lacey." ** _

He couldn't stand her.

He couldn't even stand in the same fuckin' room with the cunt, with her coy little smiles and the flirtatious batting of her long eyelashes.

Danny Devine was a man who gave no fucks about any whores like Lacey and yet the minx was always at the Rabbit Hole when he was there to collect his monthly loan from the bumbling claw baw of a barkeep.

She thought she was the goddess of the dingy little bar, walking about and attracting each gaze as she'd down a drink or take a shot at pool.

The first time he'd been approached by the stoater of a whore, he'd been barking at the barkeep for attempting to coax him into waiting another month for his payment. She'd managed to leave him speechless.

"_Now WHY the FUCK do you think I'll wait another month, you fucking fuck? Oh, reprieve? REPRIEVE. Do you even know WHAT the FUCK a REPRIEVE is?" _

"_He doesn't, but I do, little spitfire." _

Danny recalled looking upon the cunt with wide eyes, his hands no longer trembling with anger, but with pure rage. The bitch had dared to come up and interrupt _him_? Not only interrupt his loan collecting, but to act so cool and collected?

"_I don't care what the FUCK yew know, yew little barfly whore! Take yer smart little mouth and either sook mah dokey or FUCK OFF!" _

She'd slapped him after that, not a petite little slap, but one that left a print on his face that formed into a bruise the next morning.

Nobody had _ever _done such a thing.

Nobody _ever _spoke back to Danny Devine.

Nobody _ever _touched Danny Devine.

And yet this little cunt with her hooped earrings and short dresses and pool sticks and shot glasses had done just that.

The following times he'd made sure to terrorize the cunt when she was near him, always resulting in a slap or a wad of spit in his face.

Tonight was different. He'd gone too far, he knew this. She'd simply sauntered up to him as he collected his loans, pleased to see that the idiot barkeep had the cash this time. She hadn't said anything, just stood beside him, leaning against the bar.

"You're awfully calm tonight, Danny, did you finally have a good jerk last night?" she drawled, raising an eyebrow.

His calmness snapped instantly.

"_FUCK OFF!_ Just because yer daddy kicked you out for bein' a little tail doesn't mean ye can try and make _my_ feckin' life miserable!"

Her eyes had been wide. Not only wide, but hurt. Everyone knew about Lacey. Everyone knew about her father who literally threw her out onto the street, shamelessly roaring on about how she was nothing but a whore and would only get money from selling her useless body. And here was Danny, calling her a whore with no reserve. No thoughts.

She stormed out into the cold night, not even giving a smart retort.

And now Danny Devine was following her home. The little bitch never wore a fucking jacket and was bound to get some sort of disease from it.

She refused to notice him. She bounced along angrily, her curvy little ass swaying from side to side, skirt riding up just to the curve of the bodacious thing.

Danny cursed as he felt a few drops of rain patter against his shoulders, followed by harder drops that would have him soaked in no time. If Danny hated anything more than little vixens bouncing about as if they owned him, it was being wet.

And there was little Lacey ahead of him, not giving a single fuck about the rain, simply shrugging it off and smiling up towards the sky. The sight was mystifying. She was like a little water faerie, greeting the droplets like they were her friends.

It was both endearing and irritating."What the cuntybuggeryfucktoleybumshite are you doing in the feckin' rain without a fuckin' jacket you daft cow?!" he roared, causing the woman to stop in her tracks and look back to him with a scowl.

She gave a huff before rapidly clacking over to him in those tall heels of hers, giving him a dirty look as she saw his eyes trail to her legs. "And why the cuntybuggeryfucktoleybumshite do you care, Mr. Devine?" she spat, the rain matting her curls against her face.

His cock gave a shameless twinge at the way her little voice mewled his name and he knew he'd be frantically jerking off in the wee hours of the morning with that same little voice in his mind.

Danny Devine never was smitten. _Never. _And yet he would've been her twanger in an instant.

This little minx had waltzed her way into his erratic heart.

"You'll get a fuckin' cold then the fuckin' phenomena, and you'll never repay the loan on your feckin' apartment!" he roared, his face inches from hers.

The lass didn't even flinch, not even in the slightest. She smirked at him, shrugging her shoulders. "I think you've got a little crush, Danny," she murmured, bringing her damp little paw up to touch his cheek. "You hurt me, yeah, but I think you're...something else. All the other guys in this town are boring...they're either desperate or pussies, but you...you aren't afraid of anything, are you?"

Danny jerked his face away, giving a snarl as he scrambled to tug his ring of keys from his pocket. "I cannae talk to you in this feckin' rain," he grumbled, unlocking the door to the nearest building, the library.

The lass followed him in, shivering like some damp kitten. She moved in closer to him to press against his side. "I'm cold, Mr. Devine," she complained, her shivering little frame making him shudder something fierce.

"I'm not 'tha cow that decided it would be a smart idea 'ta dress like that," he spat as he locked the door behind them, turning to see the woman standing right before him, so close he could smell the scotch on her breath.

"I said I'm cold, you bastard," she repeated, moving in on him. She pressed herself to him, her chebs firm against his chest, arms sliding around his waist. Danny swallowed a groan, the feel of her thinly clothed little cunt snug against his tack making him lose his resolve to throw the woman from him."Be a gentleman and hold me."

Nobody ordered Danny Devine.

Nobody called Danny Devine a bastard.

Nobody even got this close to Danny Devine.

And yet here he was, wrapping his arms around the trembling barfly, fingers twitching.

"I always thought you hated me, Mr. Devine, but it seems that one part of you likes me," she purred.

It took a moment for the meaning to slip through, and when it did, he swallowed loudly, "A-Ah don't know what..."

She pressed a finger to his lips, a cheshire grin on her face.

She was a nymph of some sort, one of the mermaids that his ma had told him of as a boy that lured sailors into the waters and killed them.

"Mr. Devine, I'm going to stroll over here, and when I've stopped, I expect you to be right behind me, wearing..._nothing_."

He gave a guttural groan from her words, his fingers already tugging off his jacket. The fucking thing knew she had him tied around her pinkie and he had no clue how he'd ever break free after this.

He undressed, watching her walk across the library, unzipping her tiny dress and letting it pool around her feet.

Danny clutched his stiff cock, giving a groan. The lass wore absolutely nothing beneath her dress. Nothing. Her creamy flesh called to him, practically glowing in the dim light from the street lamps outdoors.

He was upon her in a second, bending her over towards the nearest shelf.

She gave a yelp followed by a giggle, her hands resting upon the lower shelves as she cocked her head back. "Fuck me, Danny," she pleaded, her eyes moving to shoot an appraising little glance at his erection.

She didn't even need to ask twice. He thrust into her like a mad man, starving of thirst or in this case, sex. His spastic little jerks had her crying out, her little voice pleading and pleading for him.

"Faster," she'd plead.

"Harder," she'd plead.

"Don't stop," she'd plead.

Her obvious pleasure from the whole thing had him moving even harder with his thrusts, slamming into the petite brunette with wild eyes, his hands cupping her breasts as squeezing as he snugly held onto her.

He pulled out only to spin her and lay her about the floor, leaning down to resume his fucking of the little wench, moving down upon her to allow the little sex kitten to claim his lips. His fingers worked between her folds, as twitchy as his thrusts.

He knew he was spent when she suckled his lower lip into her mouth, rolling her hot little tongue along it with a little mewl of pleasure. She gave whimpering cry as she released his lip, her body stiffening. She tightened around him, causing him to give a loud grunt and spill himself inside of her tight little cunt.

"_FUCK!_" He pulled back, looking down upon her as if he'd just discovered a dead body.

"What?" she asked, her voice lazy and "Didn't have fun, Mr. Devine?"

"L-Lacey I 'jus..." he outstretched a hand towards her.

He was feeling guilty. _Guilty. _

Danny.

Fucking.

Devine.

Guilty.

She silenced him by gripping onto his wrist and yanking him back on top of her. "I like you very much, Mr. Devine. Like, a lot," she gripped his face in her hands, forcing her lips upon his.

His mouth twitched against hers, feeling something other than lust this time, a blustering sort of swelling in his chest. He was gently as he cupped her cheek, returning her lustful little kiss with his own passion of sorts.

"Take me home with you..?" she hesitantly asked, biting her lip with a playful little twinkle in her eye.

"What the hell do you think I am, a monster?" he growled, standing and pulling her up with him.

She looked around them with wide eyes, suddenly laughing. Her laughter was like fucking bells to his ears, something he wanted more of, almost as much as her moans. "We fucked in the children's section, Danny, I think we're both monsters."

He shrugged, pleased that it provided her with a good laugh. "Who the feck reads anyway?"

Lacey smirked, rolling her eyes. "I'll have you know that I'm an avid reader, believe it or not."

Lacey and Danny left the library, his signature maroon-red jacket wrapped around the woman's shoulders and his arm tight around her waist.

"If we're going to be together like this, I have two conditions, Mr. Devine," she informed, eyes shifting to gage his reaction.

"Really now?" he asked, his fingers digging into her side.

"Yes. One, you'll never call me a whore again. Not even when you're fucking me. Same goes for cunt. We're going to work on that potty mouth."

Danny flinched. Telling him to control his swearing was like telling a whor..._prostitute _to stop spreading her legs. "Not even cunny baws..?" he softly asked, the expression on his face close to the expression of a begging puppy.

Lacey frowned, furrowing her brow. "Dunno what that even means, but sure, sounds cute. Anyway, two, you'll be a proper boyfriend to me. We're not having one of those fuck buddy relationships. I actually want you to care for me like you somewhat like me."

Of course he would do that. He would kill the next fucker that laid his eyes upon her if she asked it of him.

"'Course I will, Lacey" he breathed, looking over to her with a bewildered expression.

Lacey grinned, resting her head upon his shoulder. "Just call me Racy Lacey, love."

* * *

**This was SO much fun to write :) Hope you enjoyed, dearie!**

Review if you wish to do so! 


	6. In Which Rumple Teaches Belle To Spin

_**"Rumple teaches belle how to spin (cotton not gold)" ** _

She always had loved to watch him spin.

In her earlier days at the Dark Castle, she would peer over her book, watching him spin from afar. She loved the way his expression melted from his usual gleeful, teasing leer to an intense, concentrated gaze. His fingers worked deftly, so much so that she often wondered if he could ever fall asleep at the wheel, resuming his spinning even as he dozed.

She had grown bolder as her feelings grew for him, daring to sit behind him on the ground, her skirts gathered about her as she watched him. She always feared he wouldn't be able to concentrate with her there, and yet his shoulders slouched even more than usual with her presence.

She recalled her first night home with him after the curse broke, waking to expect his arms to still be gripped ever so tightly around her in his sleep. She searched restlessly for him, finally noting him in the basement of the small garage outdoors, spinning.

Belle quickly had moved inside of the garage, hurrying down the stairs to stare at him with an open mouth.

He was spinning cotton. He paused completely, an expression of complete guilt washing over his face. "Belle, I'm so sorry, I just needed to..."

He stopped speaking as she sat at his side, carefully resting her cheek on his knee, her face tilted towards the wheel. "Please, keep spinning," she softly pleaded.

"Belle..." his hand flew to her head, gently stroking her unruly tresses.

"Please," she repeated. Too many memories from the asylum, from Regina's prison. Too many. "I want to forget things too..." she explained softly.

He slowly removed his hand, watching her with concerned eyes before resuming, careful not to disturb her as he moved his foot against the pedal.

An hour later, he snapped from his haze and jerked his head to see she was fast asleep, cheek still rested upon his knee.

A few days later, she'd returned, a shy smile settled upon her lips. "Rumple...could you teach me how?" she softly asked, gesturing to the wheel.

He was taken aback, truthfully. He'd once tried to teach Baelfire how to spin, but the boy lost patience. He'd been too young to truly appreciate the way the wheel worked. "I'd love to," he shot a charming smile in her direction, standing from the seat.

Belle took his place, giving a nervous laugh. "It's...odd being the one to sit here," she informed with a cheeky grin. "I'm used to spying on you from afar, not...being the one to control this..." she murmured, placing her fingers along the wheel, giving it an appreciative stroke.

Rumplestiltskin watched her with a fond smile plastered upon his face. Belle appreciated even the most worn, used of things. Part of him could hardly wait to introduce her back into his pawn shop. Instead of skimming over the items, she'd look at each one, wondering where it had come from, who it had come from, why it was there.

"Spinning straw is very simple, m'dear, but wool is something else," he informed her, silently placing the mass of puffy wool into her lap. He crouched by her side, his good knee against the ground to alleviate the pain in his other leg.

"In the mass, you'll find the fiber, the thicker thread," he told her, taking her hand and running it down along the thick fiber that was already threaded into the wheel. "All this fluff will be threaded into the yarn, all you need to do is guide it," he murmured, placing her fingers towards the top of the thread, pinching them down over it.

"That hand will slide, this hand," he took her other hand, placing it towards the messier fibers towards her lap, "will pull."

He displayed the manner of sliding and pulling to her until she could fluidly guide the stray wools into a thin line on her own.

"Now you only need to pedal," he looked down, pleased to see her bare foot was already fidgeting on the pedal.

"I know the rhythm," she pointedly informed him, grinning coyly.

"Really now, dearie?" he chuckled, slowly standing to lean on his cane and observe her.

"Yes, I've memorized it," she grinned, gently pressing down onto the pedal and falling into her own rhythm as she started to twist and draw the wool, giving a gleeful giggle as she realized she was doing it.

She peeked back at him, wide eyed and beaming. "I'm doing it, Rumple!" she proclaimed.

He only smiled, quickly moving to halt her pedaling leg before she knotted up the wool. "Careful now, dearie. A second of lost concentration can ruin it all,"

She flushed, bobbing her head as she tried to bat away her embarrassment. "I'm lucky to have such a good teacher," she murmured, standing to peer up into his brown eyes.

His smile faded as his eyes met hers, his hand carefully tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll teach you as much as you want. You can spin down here each night if you'd like...if it'd help."

She caught his hand in hers, gently lowering it to rest against her beating heart. "It's nice to spin, but I...I think I prefer watching you do it," she admitted with a laugh. "I can't possibly forget anything when I'm too worried I'll mess up somehow. You...You never mess up."

"Well, I am a rather good teacher, dearie. I'm sure with a bit more practice you'll be just as skilled, if not more," he assured with a coy little smirk.

Belle huffed, a hand on her hip. "My, that sounds like a challenge, Rumplestiltskin?" she cocked her head, a grin on her lips.

"Indeed," he replied leaning down to steal a kiss from the beauty. "If I win, I can kiss you as much as I want..."

"That's what I was just going to say, but for me..." she frowned.

"Hm, it seems' we've reached an impasse," he mimicked her frown, unable to hide the glee in his eyes.

Belle thought for a moment before smirking suddenly. "Scratch that, if I win, you have to wear _the _pants."

"_THE _pants?" he blanched.

"Yes, the leather ones, like you used to wear. "

Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat, eyes thinning. There was no way he would let her win now. He only imagined how he'd look in those impish pants...

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**Meh, I'm not sure how I felt about my writing in this one, but it was fun research to do!**

**Review if you wish to do so, dearie!**


	7. In Which Rumple Forgets

_**"Prompt: Instead of Belle losing her memories, it's Rumple who loses his." ** _

Belle's eyes fluttered shut, her heart lunging into a galloping pace as she realized they were about to kiss. It'd been so very long since their lips had met, too long.

Her eyes jerked open as she was thrown backwards, skidding against the hard pavement. She flinched, quickly sitting up. "Rum..?" she called, not quite understanding what had just happened.

There was Hook, holding a smoking gun, a grin on his face. She jerked her head to the side to where Rumple had been standing. He was on the ground, but his scarf...it was discarded, laying limply on the ground.

"N-No!" she cried, stumbling to her feet and running to the line. She couldn't cross. If she did, she'd lose her memory, just like he most likely had. The anxiety of not being able to touch him, not being able to know if he'd been shot or not...It made her tremble as she reached for him.

Then she saw the car lights in the far distance. They were coming from...the other side? Her eyes widened in realization as she reached for Rumplestiltskin, who was sitting up, eyes bleary and confused. "Rumple..." she closed her eyes, a soft sob escaping her lips. "Mr. Gold, please, come here!" she cried.

He looked to her, brow furrowed as he snatched his cane from the ground. He appeared fine, other than disoriented.

"Please!" she pleaded as he dusted himself off.

He unsteadily came to her and as soon as he was in her reach, Belle grabbed onto him and jerked him to her, pulling so hard that he lost his balance, stumbling into her and sending them both crashing to the ground as the car rolled by.

He landed on top of her, head smashing against her chin so hard that she feared she'd hurt him. She clutched onto his arms, looking upward with confused and tear filled eyes. _Why us? Why? Haven't we gone through enough?_

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" said the voice of her one and only true love. She could've sobbed, had she been a sensitive damsel. To hear his voice sound so cold towards her...

It brought her back to their last time together.

_"Go." _

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gold, but you were almost shot," she tried to explain, gently pushing him upwards.

He frowned, gazing into her eyes with a confused expression on his face. "Do I know you?" he stiffly asked.

Belle closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Yes," she quietly replied.

She helped him stand, her arm locked firmly around his arm as she had done before, walking from the car towards the line.

The ambulance arrived seconds later, Belle being torn away by Snow White's careful embrace to allow the EMTs to properly look over Rumple.

Belle stood still, eyes wide as she watched him from afar, glaring at the man checking his pulse. "If I were dead, you'd know, dearie," he spat.

Belle almost laughed, unable to believe the mouth on him. Had he been this way before she'd found him again?

She spited herself for making light out of the situation, but she didn't know of any other way.

She watched as Prince Charming, or rather David, approached him, asking him a few questions of what he remembered.

Gold replied snappishly, demanding to be allowed to leave.

"The EMTs think it'd be best if someone escorted you home, I could..."

"I want her," Gold interupted, pointing at Belle.

She was back home in an instant, Papa's arms around her rather than Snow White's.

_"I will go with you...forever."_

She quickly strode over, heart pounding as she took his arm in hers. "I...I don't know how to drive, Mr. Gold...I'm sure..."

"I can do it," he cut her off as he had David, frowning.

He allowed her to hold his arm as they returned to his car, Belle sitting in the passenger seat and staring towards him, wishing to go back to the conversation they had previously held in the same spot.

"You say I should know you..?" he asked, turning to blatantly observe her face.

Belle didn't let it bother her. Instead, she returned his stare. "Yes...we..."

"Love," he concluded, taking a long breath. "And you say I forgot this?"

Belle nodded with forlorn eyes.

He slowly reached out with a trembling hand to grip onto her hands, folded on her lap.

"I'll...try my best, dearie," he gently promised.

Belle was taken aback by his words. Had it been her, she knew she would've screamed and shouted at him, claiming not to know him at all.

And yet...Rumplestiltskin was simply taking the situation like she would've expected. Calm and collected.

Belle slowly slid a hand free, placing it atop his. "I'll be with you each step of the way, Rum-Mr. Gold, I promise."

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**Erghhh, that was a sad one to write! I did love writing this idea though. I really think Gold would've been completely different had it been him that lost his memory. Maybe he would've turned Belle down, but I prefer to think he'd realize that she was telling the truth.  
**

**Review if you desire to do so! Thanks for reading, dearie! **


	8. In Which Lacey Plays Pool With Begbie

**I own nothing :) **

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**_Prompt: Begbie/Lacey and Pool. (This is my new OTP). _ **

Francis Begbie never lost. He never lost in his deals, never lost his bets, but Francis Begbie never, _ever_ lost at pool.

Or at least according to himself, he never lost at pool.

The only time he'd ever lost could only be whispered of between Storybrooke occupants, the fear that the livid Scotsman would overhear them and stab them with the closest pointed object overwhelming them to the point of such secrecy.

It was the day that one of the most feared couples in the small town had been formed.

If anyone could've tame the violent alcoholic, it would've been the queen of the Rabbit Hole, Lacey.

The first time they'd played against each other, most onlookers recalled feeling extremely uncomfortable. Lacey handled the situation as if it were some sort of complex mating dance, but Begbie took it differently. His growing irritation was obvious to their audience as the woman progressively did better and better.

How the two hadn't come together earlier, most of the men and women watching didn't know.

The man with his own name tattooed on his left hand was always in the bar, cussing or picking fights.

Lacey always watched from her throne, or rather the armchair next to the fire, through the haze of smoke, a smirk playing at her lips.

His kink for stabbing and punching had her intrigued.

She'd seen him play pool once against the slimy chump, Keith. She carefully watched Francis during this match. The man was twitchy as fuck and e_xtremely _competitive.

He won by a long shot and the woman doubted that Keith really knew how to play very well. His lack of skill was obvious, but Begbie acted as if he'd won the world cup.

The next night, she'd stood from her seat, taking a long drink from her glass of whiskey. She closed her eyes, savoring the burn before moving in on the man. Francis stood at the bar, glaring at the slow bartender as he fumbled to get him a drink.

She turned her back to the bar, resting her back against the counter as she watched Begbie attempt to act as if he hadn't noticed her.

Lacey rolled her eyes, deftly grabbing Begbie's drink from the bartender before it could reach Francis's hands.

Begbie gave an angry snort as he whirled around, looking her up and down. "What the _fuck _do you want?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

Lacey was impressed. She'd seen the man toss his glass mug behind him without a care, practically blinding little Ruby in the process. Nobody had seen Begbie throw it. Nobody but Lacey, of course.

_"THAT LASSIE GOT GLASSED AND NO CUNT LEAVES HERE 'TILL WE FIND OUT WHICH CUNT DID IT!" _

_"Francis, dear, you just threw the fuckin' glass."_

_"NOBODY ASKED YOU!"_

She grinned at the memory. Francis always acted tough around her, but never once had he touched her with a harmful hand or looked upon her with any form of serious hate.

"I want to play pool, Francis," she innocently informed him, batting her lashes.

"Do yeh now? Think you can beat me?" he gave a huff, looking off as if her challenge was the most ridiculous thing.

Lacey took a sip of his drink, grunting at the taste of his Johnnie Walker scotch. The stuff was too heavy for her tastes, but in the following weeks it'd be all she'd ever order. "I know I can," she tilted her chin upwards towards him as she shoved his drink into his hands. She gave him one final smirk before spinning to make her way to the pool table, her hips swinging as she went along.

Francis downed his drink in one go after shamelessly watching the petite brunette's little ass sway, giving a grunt of appreciation before stalking after her.

The game started out simple, the two exchanging predatory stares as the balls were arranged by Francis. Lacey took the first move, standing close to Begbie as she stuck her little ass in the air while aiming, taking her shot.

Francis found himself rather taken aback by her splitting of the balls, the cracking that followed as the cue ball hit her target making the woman grin.

He made sure to brush against the brunette as he moved to take his shot, pocketing two of his stripes. "You sure you'll win, lass?" he cockily questioned, mustache shifting upwards as he grinned.

She said nothing, resting her palms on the pool table as she surveyed the balls for her next play.

The urge to touch her was overwhelming, causing his palms to grow sweaty and his fingers to twitch. He glanced about, surprised at the amount of patrons watching them. Was it really that big of a fuckin' deal for two people to play pool?

And yet little Lacey had no regard for their audience as she aimed, her buttocks firmly pressing against his thigh as she shifted.

Begbie froze, eyes wide as he looked down upon her. His last encounter with a "woman" still haunted him and the contact had his heart giving the most irritating badump-badumps in response.

He didn't even realize the gesture was child's play compared to what Lacey had in store.

Their game continued and more men and women joined the crowd, watching as Lacey carelessly brushed against Begbie and purposely dropped her chalk so the man would have no choice but to watch her bend over.

His mouth furled into a snarl as he finally, started cracking, his whole body sweating now and him conscious of his kit. He glanced down at his crotch from time to time, teeth grit. _She's not gonna get you goin', she's not. Fucking hell she's good at this. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, don't look at her tits, you fucking fuck!  
_

They were down to the final play five minutes later, the eight ball, striped yellow nine and solid red seven left on the green. Lacey stood, one hand on her pool stick and the other on her hip as she stood, waiting for Begbie to take his final turn.

He walked over, the cigarette he'd recently lit hanging from his lips as he moved a hand to cup her chin. She looked up at him, a demure smirk playing at her lips. "Do you know how fuckin' wild you've driven me, Lacey?" he asked in a low voice, so low their audience could only hear incoherent murmured.

"Do tell," she simply replied, blue eyes glinting mischievously.

"I'd bend your little ass over this fuckin' table if these cunts weren't here…" he growled, moving in so close that she could feel the heat emitting from his cigarette.

"I'm sure we can do that another time, love. It's your play," she easily shrugged off his words, stepping back and watching him. She played it off easily, but Francis saw the indications that his words had hit home by the way her plush little lips parted as he walked around to take his turn.

He lined up his final aim, a grin on his face as he realized he was about to win. He pulled back and shot…

_Clank.  
_

The noise of Victor fucking Whale's glass setting on a side table distracted him, shaking his aim and causing the cue ball to bump into the black eight ball, pocketing it.

Lacey gave a delighted little cackle as she watched the Scotsman go rigid, the vein in his temple pulsing as he slammed his fist onto the table. _  
_

"_FUCKING CUNT!_" roared Francis as he pushed through the crowd, grabbing Whale by the arm and slamming his fist into the doctor's face.

Lacey was beside him in an instant, curiously watching as he bashed the man's face in with his fist.

Nobody moved to stop Begbie. Each Storybrooke resident knew the results of trying to stop him, but Lacey frankly didn't give a damn.

_Might as well stop him before there's a murder on our hands, _she reflected with a glum little sigh. She placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back. "I'm bored, Begbie. Let's go."

He glanced at her, hair mussed up and eyes wild. He breathed like some sort of rampant bull, about to stab her with his horns.

And yet he stood, fists bloody and nostrils flared.

The onlookers watched as little Racy Lacey held Francis Begbie's arm, leading him away from the sobbing doctor and out of the bar. Some even said that he had placed an arm around her waist as they exited.

Lacey and Begbie both knew all too well what would come after the violence and drinking, seeing that they both had a rather intriguing lust for both.

And fucking hell, was it good.

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**Thanks for reading, dearie! Review if you wish to do so. :) **


	9. In Which Henry Meets Lacey

**I own nothing. :) **

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_**Prompt for you: Henry meets Lacey at Granny's. **_

The world seemed to glare at them.

Gold noted this as he sat across from Lacey in their booth.

Of all the places to eat, she _would _want to eat here, where the glares came free. Both of the Lucas women glared at him as he held the door for Lacey, the former drunkard, Leroy, glared at him while he passed, his arm around Lacey's waist.

They even got the four pack package glare coming from the Charmings, Miss Swan and his own son.

Baelfire had made his thoughts on his father's decision clear.

_"You haven't changed at all, have you?" _

_"You don't understand, Bae, I can't lose her again. If I must be this way to keep her at my side…I will do so." _

"What do you think?" he was jerked from his thoughts from Belle's…no, Lacey's voice.

"I'm sorry, dearie, I lost track there for a moment. What was it you said?" he asked, forcing a grin.

Lacey rolled her eyes, clearly irritated by his lack of attention. "I _said _that I wanted to go drinking later tonight," she repeated, lazily toying with the straw stuck into the dry martini she'd ordered. She never drank water or even tea, he noted. Always alcohol. Always.

"Of course. Anything you want, dearie," he replied automatically, wishing he would bite his tongue. _This isn't right. I should have her in the library, at home…places she would remember. _

She was pleased by his reply and crossed her legs, her bare ankle rubbing against his good knee and sending shivers up his spine. He prayed that nobody could see the innocent little minx as she toyed with him.

How Belle would be able to live with herself after she remembered what she'd worn…how Belle would be able to live with _him _for letting this go on so long…

"Hey Mr. Gold!" he felt a mass plop down beside him.

He stiffened at his grandson's voice, turning to see the boy, currently fixated on drinking his hot chocolate.

"Hello, Henry," he curtly replied, looking to see that the Charming table was currently looking quite ruffled as Lacey curiously looked at Henry.

"Have you met Lacey, Henry?" he stiffly asked, shooting the boy a curt nod that clearly told him: _"Do not try anything. Anything." _

Henry looked over, shooting Lacey a shy smile. "No," he admitted, grinning.

The look on Lacey's face in that moment made his heart give a lunge. _Belle. _In that moment, she looked at the boy with such adoration, such kindness that each and everything about her spokeBelle to him.

Save for the earrings and dress, perhaps, but Belle.

"I'm Lacey," she informed with a little grin. "And you're Gold's grandson, right?" she asked, extending her hand for the boy to shake.

"Yup!" he proudly declared.

_Proud to be the grandson of the Dark One..? _

"I'm Henry, it's nice to meet you," he gave a shy grin as he took her hand, shaking it.

"Right," her head slumped to the side, her gaze shifting to meet Neal's glare. "Huh, seems your dad isn't too happy about me, huh?" she commented.

She said it with such a nonchalant tone that it made Rumple shudder. Did she care at all what anyone thought of her? She was such a free spirit, just like the Belle he had known. Not nearly as compassionate nor alike with some of her ways, but a few little things stood out to him.

"He'll get used to it," the boy assured, shooting her a confident beam.

Lacey only gave a nod, frowning lightly.

They fell into silence, the boy sipping his hot chocolate, not noticing the smudge of whipped cream that was on his nose as he placed his cup down. "So Bel-Lacey, do you like fairytales?" he asked out of the blue.

Gold immediately gripped the table, his mouth furling into a frown. He'd been so careful with Lacey, so very careful not to confuse her, not to scare her.

If this boy, his undoing, truly ruined everything…Gold almost smirked. _Perhaps the blind hag meant the undoing of Lacey… _

Lacey shrugged, looking off with a bored expression. "I don't read much," she admitted. "Fairytales, I mean, I prefer the realistic stuff," she glanced back to the boy, a smile spreading on her face as she caught sight of the whipped cream. "Hey there, ace, got a little somethin'…here, lemme get it," she leaned over, wiping the whipped cream off of his nose with a finger.

Henry flushed, abruptly standing. "Thanks, um…I'd better go back over, they'll get…m-mad!" he was beet red.

Gold knew the boy would fall for Belle without a second thought, but Lacey? He only smirked.

Lacey gave a laugh as he hurried off, grasping onto Gold's hand as she looked to him. "He's so cute!" she squealed, squeezing his hand.

"Quite a pester too," he added.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Y'know, you'd be a great dad…you think you're uglier inside than you really are…that's why you always say such snide little remarks."

Gold blanched, his eyes no longer joking as he honed in on her expression. Perhaps the words were slightly different, but Belle had nearly said the same thing so long ago, back at the Dark Castle.

Little by little, she was breaking through.

When she did, he would be waiting for her with open arms.

He did owe the boy for stirring her, he supposed. His gaze shifted to the lad, leaving with his father. _I won't kill him. I can't. _

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think of some way, any way that he could avoid harming the boy.

"Gold, you ready?"

He glanced up to see Lacey standing beside him, hand outstretched.

He took it, nodding. "Of course, dear," he replied.

He would leave the thinking for another day.

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**Thanks for reading, dearie! Review if you wish to do so. :)**


	10. In Which Belle Tries On A Wedding Dress

**I own nothing! :) **

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_**Belle goes shopping with (your choice of character) and is persuided to try on a wedding dress for fun. Bonus points if Rumple sees!**_

Belle opened the window in their room, greeting the warm breeze with a wide grin. The murky weather had finally seemed to lift. This place, Maine, always seemed so gloomy and chilly out, but to finally have some warmth was a very welcome thing for Belle.

She glanced back to Rumplestiltskin, who was still sleeping soundly in their bed. He was still catching up on the sleep he'd lost during her time as Lacey. She felt a bitter taste rising in her throat at the thought of her alter ego, keeping him stuck in the Rabbit Hole with her until the wee hours of the morning.

She heard a sharp intake of breath from him, looking to see him sitting up with wide eyes. "Belle," he croaked out, reaching for her with a relieved breath. She was at his side in a moment, clutching his hands in hers.

"I'm here, Rumple," she soothed, removing her hands to run them through his hair. "I was thinking of going out to shop with Ruby if that's all right with you…I figured you could spend some time with Bae, maybe have breakfast with him?" she suggested. She'd been aching to better explore the town a bit with Red. Rumplestiltskin had ordered her clothing en mass the last time, giving her little choice in the matter, but Belle never once reflected upon that with a frown.

Rumplestiltskin had done a superb job of finding her clothing that she felt comfortable in. She flushed as she realized how very well he knew her.

"Of course, of course," he replied, moving to cup her cheek in his calloused hand. "Have fun dearie and stay out of trouble. I suppose I'll call Baelfire and see if he'd like to eat at Granny's."

Belle smiled, leaning in to brush her lips against his. "Thank you," she breathed, closing her eyes and resting her forehead to his for a moment before bouncing off to get ready to go out.

She texted Ruby before heading out, giving Rumple a quick kiss as he pulled on his suit jacket, already having called Baelfire.

Belle was quite pleased at the boutiques Ruby introduced her to, not quite expecting such diversity in the small town. She assumed most of the women wore the same outfits due to the lack of stores, but the stores they found had quite the selections.

Belle internally sighed as Ruby darted off, surely on a mission to find her either some "sexy" outfits for Gold or something of the sort for herself. Belle shook her head, grinning as she quickly paced after the woman.

"So…how're things? I mean, no offense, but when you were Lacey…just woah," Ruby grinned at her as she held a red skirt to her hips, frowning at what she saw.

"They're as normal as can be," Belle sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "We talked things out though…he apologized," her eyes fell to the ground, their argument running through her head.

_"You fell so easily, Rumple. I'd been so confident that you could avoid that path, but as soon as you feared I'd slip through your fingers…you went right back to it. What do you think Baelfire would think?"_

"I can't lose you again, Belle! I would kill each and every person in this town if it meant keeping you safe!" 

"Hey, hey," Ruby placed a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to peer up into Belle's blue eyes. "Everything's gonna be fine, Belle, don't worry. It's not your fault, anyway, it's that bitch queen's fault. If he wants to get angry at anyone, it should be her."

Belle bit her lip, nodding slowly.

"Look at that!" Ruby suddenly screeched, pointing off at the tiniest little dress Belle had ever seen.

She shook her head, laughing. Ruby had told her how appalled she was at her Storybrooke persona's taste, and yet she still had traces of that same persona within her even now.

Belle hesitated, making herself look at the risque dress. _Well, Lacey, are you still in here? _She stared at the dress, trying to see if her mind would react towards it.

Belle grinned as her mind remained disgusted with the thing.

The two left, bags in hand and chatting happily. Belle was listening to Red chatter on about the time Pongo chased after one of Storybrooke's fashionistas, Cruella, when she stopped in her tracks.

"And then Pongo…Belle?"

Everything about the dress in the window called to her. The purity of it, the daydreams it offered that left her mouth hanging open.

It was the design that had her eyes wide. It was as if the fates had created the dress for her.

It was a pure white gown that reached the ground. The bodice had a silver lining about it with a few gems and the sleeves hung off of the shoulders of the mannequin.

It was her dress from so long ago, the dress she wore when she met him the first time. Rumplestiltskin.

Not only that, but it was also a wedding gown.

"Oh my god, Belle! You have to try it on!" Red cried, grabbing her friend by the arm and bolting across the street, dragging Belle along with her.

Belle flushed as they entered, Ruby demanding that she be allowed to try the dress on.

The old seamstress that owned the shop was more than happy to do so, whisking Belle away into the changing room.

Belle was flushing a rosy red as she stepped out in the gown, holding her skirts up about her. It was then that she realized how much she missed her old dresses. The wedding gown just felt _right _to her. Everything about it felt right.

Ruby teared up immediately, covering her mouth with a hand. Even the seamstress gave a snuffle.

"God, Gold better propose ASAP because he's got the prettiest girl in town on his arm!" Ruby huffed, ushering Belle over to look at herself in the mirror.

Belle gave a soft gasp at her reflection, looking beyond anything she ever imagined. It was perfect. Her heart ached as she realized that she wasn't really trying the dress on with the expectations to be married. They hadn't even spoken of it.

She failed to notice the man in the window, leaning heavily on his cane from the sight of his beauty, dressed in white.

Dressed to be wed.

His breath caught in his throat, eyes gleaming as he looked upon Belle in her dress, almost the same dress she wore when he first met her.

His mind was set.

He briskly headed to his pawnshop, rifling through his back cabinet for the ring he'd always kept from selling.

It served as a petty daydream back so long ago, when he still believed that she was dead.

He always imagined that she would walk in one day. He'd propose right then. He never did though. Even when she remembered.

He would be fixing that mistake tonight.

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**Thanks for reading, dearie! Review if you wish to do so!**


	11. In Which Belle Discovers Gold, Assaulted

**_Prompt-_**_**How about really angsty prompt ? Gold was badly beaten and raped in his shop. Belle found him and then she's there for him all the time. To help him recover and show how much she still love him.**_

**Trigger warning, no direct reference of rape, but indications. If he actually was, I suppose it's up to you to decide. **

**Hardcore angst with a fluffy ending. Like fluffy enough that it made me all ;_; **

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She had been wearing a smile until she noted that the window of his back door had been shattered, her heart giving a sickening lurch in response.

"Rumple?!" she called at once, pushing the ajar door open, eyes quickly taking in the mess that had been made of his back room. Artifacts had been thrown to the ground and smashed and papers had been strewn across the floor.

She hadn't realized the mass in the center of the room was Rumplestiltskin himself until he had shifted, giving a muted groan.

He had been bloody and broken, trying to push her away as she knelt beside him, even in his battered state.

"No," he had croaked, bruised hands weakly trying to brush her aside.

"Rumple," her voice came out in a whimper as she saw the tears on his face. Humiliation.

She didn't question what had happened or why his clothes were so rumpled and loosened on him, but she did shift his head onto her thighs as she knelt there, craning over his body and embracing him, as if shielding him from the pain he was obviously experiencing.

"Rumple," she softly crooned, stroking his back as his body began to tremble, a few damp tears soaking through her tights.

She had remained there with him for another half an hour until she worked up the courage to fix his trousers and jacket, helping him stand afterwards.

"No hospital," were his sharp words, Belle wanting very much to argue, but biting her tongue.

He'd leaned heavily on her as she guided him home, glad that it was so late, for it left the streets empty.

She stood with him in the shower that night after removing glass from his knee, wearing nothing but one of his baggy shirts and briefs to leave him feeling comfortable as she scrubbed the blood, sweat and tears from him.

How the glass had found its way into his knee, she wasn't sure, but she would save the questions for a day when he was not avoiding her gaze and flinching at her touch.

She dressed him after that, even after he'd shoved her away, trying to do it himself, but failing as she gently nudged his hands away.

"No," she sternly spoke, glaring up at him as she resumed tugging the sweatpants she had unearthed from his closet over his bandaged knee.

He tried pushing her away that night in bed, clearly uncomfortable with her at his side, afraid he'd harm her somehow when she wondered if it was _her _he was afraid of.

He had finally settled once she had gently slid her arms around him, his head buried in the crook of her neck and his breaths softening.

That night, he'd woken her with his thrashing, shoving her from the bed in his dreaming state.

She stood immediately, forcing her arms around him, holding him to her until his shouts died down to sobs.

This was how it went for the next month until he was comfortable again.

He'd been raped of his pride, of his power.

He told her this as he finally opened up about the assault, the way the masked man had slammed his knee into one of his display cases, had beaten him relentlessly with no good reason.

Things were somewhat normal after that, though the occasional nightmare did happen, driving her off the bed and reducing him into a sobbing mass against her side.

She never let him work alone at night anymore and he was fine with this, happy to have her company as he went through his ledgers.

They'd even made love her first night there in the cot in the back room, his demeanor changing for the better after.

Belle liked to believe that it was their joining that had healed him, but she knew the true savior was Lucy.

The child had been born in fall, Gold tearing up as the nurse brought the swaddled babe to them in the small hospital room, Belle joining him as they held her together, his arms around her shoulders, fingers against the infant's rosy cheeks.

The next few years passed in a blur of diapers and smiles, Belle finally deciding that the man was finally freed from the scarring left by the incident as she was in the garden, weeding and watching the two in the yard.

"Baba!" Lucy squealed as he caught her around the waist, managing to heft her up against his hip, a heavy grip on his cane.

"Baba, no!" she shrieked as he sat down with her, the toddler squiggling from his arms and pushing him onto his back, Gold theatrically falling backwards in response to her nudges. The blue-eyed girl sat on his chest, planting kisses on his cheeks and squeezing his nose with her pudgy fingers, giving a delighted giggle as he gave a mock wince.

He caught her hand, giving each finger tip a kiss before tugging the girl into a snug hug "I love you, Lucy," he softly crooned.

"Love Baba," she replied, tilting her head upwards to shoot him a bleary smile.

Belle watched with pursed lips, wiping the tear that had leaked down her cheek and resuming her gardening with a smile stretched across her lips.

Four years ago she wouldn't have thought she'd see him this happy and free again.

And yet here he was, smiling with ease, even laughing freely around her and their daughter.

_"Once we've fallen to the bottom, we can only climb up." _

He'd told her this once a long while ago, after she'd been broken just as he had, but by Regina and her asylum beneath the hospital.

As far as Belle was concerned, they had finally reached the top and would remain there for the rest of their lives.


End file.
